Antony and Cleopatra, Act 3, Scene 13

What shall we do, Enobarbus?

What shall we do, Enobarbus?

Think, and die.

Think about it, and die.

Is Antony or we in fault for this?

Is Antony to blame for this, or are we?

Antony only, that would make his will Lord of his reason. What though you fled From that great face of war, whose several ranges Frighted each other? Why should he follow? The itch of his affection should not then Have nicked his captainship, at such a point, When half to half the world opposed, he being The mered question. ’Twas a shame no less Than was his loss, to course your flying flags And leave his navy gazing.

Antony alone, for choosing to make his desire master of his reason. So what if you fled from that great front of battle, whose lines of ships terrified each other? Why should he follow you? The itch of his love should not then have cut short his generalship, at a moment like that, when half the world stood against the other half, and he was the whole point at stake. It was no less a disgrace than his defeat, to chase after your fleeing flags and leave his own fleet staring.

Prithee, peace.

Please, be quiet.

Is that his answer?

Is that his answer?

Ay, my lord.

Yes, my lord.

The Queen shall then have courtesy, so she Will yield us up.

So the Queen will be treated courteously, provided she gives me up.

He says so.

That is what he says.

Let her know’t.— To the boy Caesar send this grizzled head, And he will fill thy wishes to the brim With principalities.

Let her be told so.— Send this grey head to the boy Caesar, and he will fill your wishes to the brim with princedoms.

That head, my lord?

That head, my lord?

To him again. Tell him he wears the rose Of youth upon him, from which the world should note Something particular: his coin, ships, legions, May be a coward’s; whose ministers would prevail Under the service of a child as soon As i’ th’ command of Caesar. I dare him therefore To lay his gay comparisons apart, And answer me declined, sword against sword, Ourselves alone. I’ll write it. Follow me.

Go back to him. Tell him he wears the rose of youth on him, and because of that the world expects something remarkable from him: his money, his ships, his legions could belong to a coward; his officers could win just as easily serving a child as under Caesar's command. So I challenge him to set aside his splendid advantages and meet me, ruined as I am, sword against sword, just the two of us alone. I'll write it down. Follow me.

Yes, like enough high-battled Caesar will Unstate his happiness, and be staged to th’ show Against a sworder! I see men’s judgments are A parcel of their fortunes, and things outward Do draw the inward quality after them To suffer all alike. That he should dream, Knowing all measures, the full Caesar will Answer his emptiness! Caesar, thou hast subdued His judgment too.

Oh yes, it's very likely that Caesar, with his mighty armies, will put his good fortune at risk and be put on show in a match against a fencer! I see that men's judgments are part of their luck, and outward things drag the inner quality along with them, so that everything decays together. That he could imagine, when he knows exactly how the two of them compare, that Caesar at his fullest will respond to his emptiness! Caesar, you have conquered his judgment too.

A messenger from Caesar.

A messenger from Caesar.

What, no more ceremony? See, my women, Against the blown rose may they stop their nose That kneeled unto the buds. Admit him, sir.

What, no more ceremony than that? Look, my women: those who knelt to the buds may well hold their noses at the full-blown rose. Let him in, sir.

[Aside.] Mine honesty and I begin to square. The loyalty well held to fools does make Our faith mere folly. Yet he that can endure To follow with allegiance a fallen lord Does conquer him that did his master conquer, And earns a place i’ th’ story.

[Aside.] My honesty and I are starting to quarrel. Loyalty firmly kept to fools makes our faithfulness nothing but folly. And yet a man who can bear to follow a fallen lord loyally conquers the one who conquered his master, and earns himself a place in history.

Caesar’s will?

What is Caesar's wish?

Hear it apart.

Hear it in private.

None but friends. Say boldly.

There are only friends here. Speak freely.

So haply are they friends to Antony.

Then they are probably friends of Antony too.

He needs as many, sir, as Caesar has, Or needs not us. If Caesar please, our master Will leap to be his friend. For us, you know Whose he is we are, and that is Caesar’s.

He needs as many friends, sir, as Caesar has, or else he has no need of us. If Caesar is willing, our master will jump at the chance to be his friend. As for us, you know that we belong to whoever he belongs to, and that is Caesar.

So.— Thus then, thou most renowned: Caesar entreats Not to consider in what case thou stand’st Further than he is Caesar.

Very well.— Then this, most renowned lady: Caesar asks you not to think about the situation you are in, beyond remembering that he is Caesar.

Go on; right royal.

Go on; that is truly royal.

He knows that you embrace not Antony As you did love, but as you feared him.

He knows that you do not hold on to Antony out of love, but out of fear of him.

O!

Oh!

The scars upon your honour, therefore, he Does pity as constrained blemishes, Not as deserved.

So he pities the scars on your honour as marks forced on you, not as ones you deserved.

He is a god and knows What is most right. Mine honour was not yielded, But conquered merely.

He is a god, and knows what is most truly right. My honour was not surrendered, only conquered by force.

[Aside.] To be sure of that, I will ask Antony. Sir, sir, thou art so leaky That we must leave thee to thy sinking, for Thy dearest quit thee.

[Aside.] To make certain of that, I'll ask Antony. Sir, sir, you leak so badly that we must leave you to sink, because those dearest to you are abandoning you.

Shall I say to Caesar What you require of him? For he partly begs To be desired to give. It much would please him That of his fortunes you should make a staff To lean upon. But it would warm his spirits To hear from me you had left Antony, And put yourself under his shroud, The universal landlord.

Shall I tell Caesar what you ask of him? For he half begs to be asked to give. It would please him greatly if you would make his good fortune into a staff to lean on. But it would warm his heart to hear from me that you had left Antony and put yourself under his protection, the landlord of the whole world.

What’s your name?

What is your name?

My name is Thidias.

My name is Thidias.

Most kind messenger, Say to great Caesar this in deputation: I kiss his conqu’ring hand. Tell him I am prompt To lay my crown at’s feet, and there to kneel. Tell him, from his all-obeying breath I hear The doom of Egypt.

Kindest of messengers, say this to great Caesar on my behalf: I kiss his conquering hand. Tell him I am ready to lay my crown at his feet and kneel there. Tell him that from his all-commanding breath I await the sentence upon Egypt.

’Tis your noblest course. Wisdom and fortune combating together, If that the former dare but what it can, No chance may shake it. Give me grace to lay My duty on your hand.

That is your noblest course. When wisdom and fortune fight each other, if wisdom only attempts what it can actually do, no accident can shake it. Allow me the favour of laying my duty on your hand.

Your Caesar’s father oft, When he hath mused of taking kingdoms in, Bestowed his lips on that unworthy place As it rained kisses.

Your Caesar's father, often, when he had been thinking about conquering kingdoms, set his lips on that unworthy spot as though it were raining kisses.

Favours, by Jove that thunders! What art thou, fellow?

Favours, by Jove who thunders! What are you, fellow?

One that but performs The bidding of the fullest man and worthiest To have command obeyed.

Only a man carrying out the orders of the most complete man alive, and the one most worthy to have his commands obeyed.

[Aside.] You will be whipped.

[Aside.] You're going to be whipped.

Approach there.—Ah, you kite!—Now, gods and devils, Authority melts from me. Of late when I cried “Ho!” Like boys unto a muss, kings would start forth And cry “Your will?” Have you no ears? I am Antony yet.

Come here, someone!—Ah, you vulture!—Now, gods and devils, my authority is melting away from me. Not long ago, when I shouted "Hey!", kings would come rushing out like boys scrambling for a scattered handful, crying "What do you want?" Have you no ears? I am still Antony.

Take hence this jack and whip him.

Take this low fellow away and whip him.

’Tis better playing with a lion’s whelp Than with an old one dying.

It's safer to play with a lion's cub than with an old lion that's dying.

Moon and stars! Whip him. Were’t twenty of the greatest tributaries That do acknowledge Caesar, should I find them So saucy with the hand of she here—what’s her name Since she was Cleopatra? Whip him, fellows, Till like a boy you see him cringe his face And whine aloud for mercy. Take him hence.

Moon and stars! Whip him. If they were twenty of the greatest tribute-paying kings who acknowledge Caesar, and I found them being so insolent with the hand of this woman here—what is her name now that she has stopped being Cleopatra? Whip him, men, until you see him screw up his face like a boy and whine out loud for mercy. Take him away.

Mark Antony—

Mark Antony—

Tug him away. Being whipp’d, Bring him again. This jack of Caesar’s shall Bear us an errand to him.

Drag him off. Once he's been whipped, bring him back. This low fellow of Caesar's will carry a message from us to him.

You were half blasted ere I knew you. Ha! Have I my pillow left unpressed in Rome, Forborne the getting of a lawful race, And by a gem of women, to be abused By one that looks on feeders?

You were half withered before I ever knew you. Ha! Have I left my pillow in Rome unslept on, given up fathering a lawful family, and that by a jewel among women, only to be insulted by one who makes eyes at servants?

Good my lord—

My good lord—

You have been a boggler ever. But when we in our viciousness grow hard— O misery on’t!—the wise gods seal our eyes, In our own filth drop our clear judgments, make us Adore our errors, laugh at’s while we strut To our confusion.

You have always been a shifty creature. But when we grow hardened in our own vice—oh, the misery of it!—the wise gods seal up our eyes, drop our clear judgments into our own filth, make us worship our mistakes, and laugh at us while we strut towards our ruin.

O, is’t come to this?

Oh, has it come to this?

I found you as a morsel cold upon Dead Caesar’s trencher; nay, you were a fragment Of Gneius Pompey’s, besides what hotter hours, Unregistered in vulgar fame, you have Luxuriously pick’d out. For I am sure, Though you can guess what temperance should be, You know not what it is.

I found you like a cold scrap left on dead Caesar's plate; no, you were a leftover of Gneius Pompey's, besides all the hotter hours you have lecherously picked out for yourself that never got into common gossip. For I am sure that although you can guess what self-control ought to be, you have no idea what it actually is.

Wherefore is this?

Why are you saying all this?

To let a fellow that will take rewards And say “God quit you!” be familiar with My playfellow, your hand, this kingly seal And plighter of high hearts! O that I were Upon the hill of Basan, to outroar The horned herd! For I have savage cause, And to proclaim it civilly were like A haltered neck which does the hangman thank For being yare about him.

To let some fellow who takes tips and says "God reward you!" take liberties with my playmate, your hand, this royal seal and pledger of noble hearts! Oh, if only I were on the hill of Basan, to out-bellow the horned herd! For I have savage reason, and to announce it politely would be like a man with a rope round his neck thanking the hangman for being quick about his work.

Is he whipped?

Has he been whipped?

Soundly, my lord.

Thoroughly, my lord.

Cried he? And begged he pardon?

Did he cry? And did he beg for pardon?

He did ask favour.

He did ask for mercy.

If that thy father live, let him repent Thou wast not made his daughter; and be thou sorry To follow Caesar in his triumph, since Thou hast been whipped for following him. Henceforth The white hand of a lady fever thee; Shake thou to look on’t. Get thee back to Caesar; Tell him thy entertainment. Look thou say He makes me angry with him; for he seems Proud and disdainful, harping on what I am, Not what he knew I was. He makes me angry, And at this time most easy ’tis to do’t, When my good stars that were my former guides Have empty left their orbs and shot their fires Into th’ abysm of hell. If he mislike My speech and what is done, tell him he has Hipparchus, my enfranched bondman, whom He may at pleasure whip, or hang, or torture, As he shall like, to quit me. Urge it thou. Hence with thy stripes, be gone.

If your father is still alive, let him be sorry you weren't born his daughter; and you should be sorry to walk behind Caesar in his triumph, since you have been whipped for following him. From now on, let a lady's white hand give you a fever; tremble at the sight of it. Get back to Caesar; tell him how you were entertained here. Be sure you say that he makes me angry with him, since he seems proud and scornful, going on about what I am now rather than what he knew I used to be. He makes me angry, and just now it is very easy to do, when my lucky stars, which used to guide me, have left their spheres empty and shot their fires down into the pit of hell. If he dislikes what I say and what has been done, tell him he holds Hipparchus, my freed slave, whom he can whip or hang or torture at his pleasure, however he likes, to get even with me. Insist on that. Off with you and your lashes, go.

Have you done yet?

Have you finished yet?

Alack, our terrene moon is now eclipsed, And it portends alone the fall of Antony.

Alas, our earthly moon is eclipsed now, and that alone foretells the fall of Antony.

I must stay his time.

I must wait until his mood passes.

To flatter Caesar, would you mingle eyes With one that ties his points?

To flatter Caesar, would you exchange glances with a man who laces up his shoes?

Not know me yet?

Do you still not know me?

Cold-hearted toward me?

Cold-hearted toward me?

Ah, dear, if I be so, From my cold heart let heaven engender hail And poison it in the source, and the first stone Drop in my neck; as it determines, so Dissolve my life! The next Caesarion smite, Till, by degrees the memory of my womb, Together with my brave Egyptians all, By the discandying of this pelleted storm, Lie graveless, till the flies and gnats of Nile Have buried them for prey!

Ah, my dear, if I am so, then let heaven breed hail out of my cold heart and poison it at its source, and let the first stone fall on my neck; as it melts away, so let my life dissolve! Let the next strike Caesarion, until, one after another, everything my womb remembers, along with all my brave Egyptians, melted out of this hailstone storm, lies unburied, until the flies and gnats of the Nile have buried them by eating them!

I am satisfied. Caesar sits down in Alexandria, where I will oppose his fate. Our force by land Hath nobly held; our severed navy too Have knit again, and fleet, threat’ning most sea-like. Where hast thou been, my heart? Dost thou hear, lady? If from the field I shall return once more To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood. I and my sword will earn our chronicle. There’s hope in’t yet.

I am satisfied. Caesar is laying siege to Alexandria, and there I will stand against his destiny. Our army on land has held out nobly; our scattered ships have come together again too, and float threateningly, in fine sea-going order. Where have you been, my courage? Do you hear, my lady? If I come back from the battlefield once more to kiss these lips, I will come covered in blood. My sword and I will win ourselves a place in the history books. There is hope in this yet.

That’s my brave lord!

That's my brave lord!

I will be treble-sinewed, hearted, breathed, And fight maliciously. For when mine hours Were nice and lucky, men did ransom lives Of me for jests. But now I’ll set my teeth And send to darkness all that stop me. Come, Let’s have one other gaudy night. Call to me All my sad captains. Fill our bowls once more Let’s mock the midnight bell.

My muscles, my heart and my breath will be three times as strong, and I will fight savagely. For when my times were easy and fortunate, men could buy their lives back from me with a joke. But now I'll clench my teeth and send into darkness everyone who blocks my way. Come, let's have one more brilliant night. Summon all my downcast captains. Fill our cups once more — let's laugh at the midnight bell.

It is my birthday. I had thought t’have held it poor, but since my lord Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra.

It's my birthday. I had meant to keep it quietly, but since my lord is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra.

We will yet do well.

We will come through this well yet.

Call all his noble captains to my lord.

Summon all his noble captains to my lord.

Do so; we’ll speak to them; and tonight I’ll force The wine peep through their scars. Come on, my queen, There’s sap in’t yet. The next time I do fight I’ll make Death love me, for I will contend Even with his pestilent scythe.

Do that; we'll speak to them; and tonight I'll make the wine show through their scars. Come on, my queen, there's life in this yet. The next time I fight, I'll make Death fall in love with me, for I will compete even with his plague-bringing scythe.

Now he’ll outstare the lightning. To be furious Is to be frighted out of fear, and in that mood The dove will peck the estridge; and I see still A diminution in our captain’s brain Restores his heart. When valour preys on reason, It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek Some way to leave him.

Now he'll stare down the lightning. To be in a rage is to be so terrified that fear is driven out, and in that state the dove will peck at the ostrich; and I keep seeing that the shrinking of our captain's brain builds up his courage. When bravery feeds on good sense, it eats the very sword it fights with. I will look for some way to leave him.